Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough, Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men. What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true, Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again, 'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at largeĭown in the meadow, where is richer feed,Īnd will not mind to hit their proper target.
My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read, When all the fields around lay bound and hoar Or seen the furrows shine but late upturned,Īnd where the fieldfare followed in the rear,
In the staid current of the lowland stream Until its youthful sound was hushed at last Which now through all its course stands still and dumbĪlong the slopes, and through the meadows next, The bee's long smothered hum, on the blue flag The upland pastures where the Johnwort grew How in the shimmering noon of winter past The icy spears were adding to their length On the every twig and rail and jutting spout, When in the still light of the cheerful moon, Thoreau died of tuberculosis in 1862 at the age of 45, leaving not only two books and numerous essays, but also a huge Journal published later in 20 volumes. He opposed the government for waging the Mexican war eloquently in Resistance to Civil Government based on his brief experience in jail he even supported John Brown's violent effort to end slavery. He was particularly interested in the frontier and Native Americans. He traveled often to the Maine woods, and to Cape Cod several times. He returned to Concorde after two years with his book, Walden, but not many showed an interest in it, so he spent the next nine years writing seven full drafts before trying to publish it. He gave a lecture and was imprisoned briefly for not paying his poll tax, but mostly he wrote a book as a memorial to a river trip he had taken with his brother, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers. While at Walden, Thoreau did an incredible amount of reading and writing, yet he also spent much time wandering in nature and absorbing it. At the age of 28, in 1845, wanting to write his first book, he went to Walden pond and built his cabin on land owned by Emerson. He worked for several years as a surveyor, and making pencils with his father. He and his brother taught school for a while, but in 1842, John cut himself while shaving and died of lockjaw in his brother's arms, an untimely death which traumatized the 25 year old Henry. Thoreau grew up very close to his older brother John, who taught school to help pay for Henry's tuition at Harvard. One of his first memories was of staying awake at night 'looking through the stars to see if I could see God behind them.' One might say he never stopped looking into nature for ultimate Truth. He was a complex man of many talents who worked hard to shape his craft and his life, seeing little difference between them. Thoreau was born in Concord, Massachusetts.
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